How The Hell Is It July Already and Other Thoughts on Life During The ‘Rona

I feel like it’s been over-said today, but how the hell is it July already? I mean, it seems like it was only last week that I couldn’t get flour or butter or bread or Lysol wipes at the grocery stores. (I’m still searching for Lysol wipes.)

Speaking of butter – I still have two pounds of it in my fridge. A kind friend offered to get some for me on her grocery run and ended up buying me 3 pounds. A favorite local restaurant started offering curbside pickup of meal packs, and their meals also included a solid 1-lb restaurant block of butter. We may have picked up those meals more than once.

This would be an excellent time to be eating keto, if it weren’t for all the stress baking happening.

Back to July. So, it’s July already, and I have wasted three whole months where I could have had a first draft completed. Unfortunately, I’m still utterly struggling with focus (surprise!), and the slightest thing distracts me. Combine this with some excellent procrastination skills, and you get a cleaned out garage, office space, and a lot of half-finished honey-do projects – and no manuscript. Oops.

It IS July Already – so Happy Birthday to Me

It’s July, and that has another meaning: it’s my birthday month! Except that it’s really hard to celebrate your birthday month when you basically go nowhere. My husband is immunocompromised, I have asthma, and apparently here in Texas masks are a blight on people’s freedom, so we are limiting our trips to public spaces.

But celebrate my birthday month I will, and I’m going to celebrate it in any way I can. This includes taking time out each day to force my ass in the chair and write. (Hopefully something more eloquent than this).

Of course, this means I have to stay off the Twitter and the Facebook, so I’ve got both blocked again on my laptop from 10-4. I also dug into controls on my phone and limited app usage so I can’t cheat. Both have turned into a major time-suck during lockdown and I developed some bad habits…

Oh, and my sourdough starter, Ramona, that I fought with at the beginning of the stay-at-home order? She did great, made many a crumpet and loaf of bread, and our favorite, english muffins. And then I think I killed her because I forgot to feed her and then left her on the counter too long.

It’s hot in Texas. I am afraid to open the jar, to be honest.

And because I’m not baking, apparently I have nothing to post on Instagram, either.

What I HAVE been doing, however, is reading. I’ve been reading a lot. Unfortunately, I have not been posting my reviews along with the other things I’ve half-written and then hate, because I’m struggling with words.

Words are hard right now (if this post hasn’t already given you an indication of that.)

I’m suddenly struggling with book reviews, too! Everything I’ve written lately reads like this: “book great. characters complex. plot exciting. couldn’t put it down.”

Which, in fairness, is accurate for all the books I’ve been reading, but not particularly helpful for the reader. This means that I’m full up on shitty first drafts. Anne Lamott would be so proud of me.

So for my birthday month, I’m giving myself the gift of forgiveness, and I’m going to bust my butt to get caught up. I hope my family likes breakfast for dinner and carry-outs.

I’m also declaring cake for breakfast to be a thing. It’s my birthday month, after all, and if I can’t GO places and do cool things (it’s 107º with the heat index right now), at least I get to make the rules.

Let’s Keep July Safe. Don’t Let It Be Weird

I’m keeping my fingers crossed that July doesn’t bring more weirdness like fire zombies, or murder unicorns, or weeping angels, or especially flatulent housemates. In the meantime, I’m going to do my best to live in the moment. Because if I blink, I might find that it’s suddenly August.

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